Harry Potter and the Shell of the God-King
by alienyouthct
Summary: The aptly named Department of Mysteries is home to a great many things that wizardkind does not yet understand. Luna releases one of them and forever alters the course of history. Eventual Harry/f/f/f/f/f
1. Down the Rabbit Hole

Title: _Harry Potter and the Shell of the God-King_  
Author: JoeHundredaire  
Rating: R/FR18/M.  
Pairings: Harry Potter/multi  
Disclaimer: _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_, _Angel: the Series_, and all associated characters belong to Fran and Kaz Kuzui. J.K. Rowling owns the _Harry Potter_ universe. Wish they were mine so I could do increasingly nonsensical things to them and watch my bank account get steadily larger, but sadly not mine. Additionally, there are a handful of original characters inserted here and there to expand her world's horizons a bit. If you like a character but don't recognize their name, run it through the _Harry Potter_ Wikia. If nothing comes up, they're mine and I'd appreciate being asked before you port them to another fanfic. I'll probably say yes; I just want to know where they're going so I can check in on them from time to time.  
Summary: The aptly named Department of Mysteries is home to a great many things that wizardkind does not yet understand. Luna releases one of them and forever alters the course of history.  
Dedications: To the twenty-eight reviewers of _Savior_, for managing to drum up 6,484 hits and 64 reviews in three days. You guys rock. To my friend for lending me the _Angel_ S5 DVDs so I could write Illyria a bit better… you also rock.  
Joe's Note: I originally started this story back in 2007, as a cowrite with my ex-girlfriend. If any of you reading this are authors who've dated - and lost - someone within your fandom, you can probably guess why that was a bad idea. In my case, she walked away with extensive notes on subplots and even a few of the main characters that I never got to see, bringing things to a screeching halt. Because, well, it's not even like I lost the will to write without her. I literally had no idea where her half of things were going in most cases. So it sat on my hard drive for six years, and I recently rediscovered it when converting my Word DOCX story files to Scrivener archives. I still have no clue what my ex was planning to do but after a slow and thorough reread, I came up with ideas on how to replace her ideas with mine and reforge this into something I could then continue as per the plot outline from oh so long ago. So welcome back to this particular bout of insanity. I hope you enjoy the ride.

* * *

Lying as still as possible, Luna Lovegood's grey eyes tracked Harry Potter as he raced out of the room with the prophecy orb grasped tightly in one hand, drawing the Death Eaters away with him. After a moment, Neville Longbottom groaned and climbed to his feet before following after them, and then she was all alone. Or - at least for now - the only conscious person in the room and therefore alone enough to end her charade. Sitting up, Luna winced a bit as her ribs protested. In the future, she decided, she'd have to try and avoid being thrown into solid objects. They were awfully solid.

It took a few more breaths before she was confident enough to try standing and even then it wasn't entirely painless. Looking around, she nibbled her lower lip as she thought before shaking her head decisively. The Death Eaters had left them behind to pursue Harry and no matter how noble it sounded, staying here to guard her friends was a waste of time. Either Harry would find a way to win the day, the Death Eaters would flee or be captured, and then mediwizards would be dispatched to help her peers… or the Death Eaters would win and come back and kill Luna and the others. Staying here just meant she'd have no way of influencing the outcome of the battle.

Luna took two steps toward the door through which Harry, Neville, and the Death Eaters had departed before pausing and looking back over her shoulder. It was still beckoning her. It was still beckoning to her. Ever since she'd entered the Department of Mysteries, she had felt it… a low thrum of power that called out to her like the song of a siren to its prey. A familiar song from her childhood, that had echoed throughout the Rookery right up until her mother's death. Then the Unspeakables had come and stripped her mother's workshop bare, and the song had left her.

Now it was back.

Canceling the Sealing Charm she'd cast on one of the doors leading out of the Brain Room, Luna made her way over to it and paused briefly before turning the knob and entering the side room. She found herself standing in a simple workshop that contained little of interest save for another door at the far end. Her wand came up as she walked forward quickly, a simple Unlocking Charm granting her access to the room behind the next door. And there… to borrow a muggle expression?

Jackpot.

A large stone sarcophagus sat in the center of the room, several balls of bluebell flame hovering around it and bathing it in an eerie, flickering blue light. It hadn't changed one whit in the time since she'd last seen it, with a quintet of fantastically large gemstones arranged in a pentagon around a slightly depressed spiral near the sarcophagus's head. Her hands slid over the cool stone like a lover's caress as she started near the foot and worked her way toward the gems. Five years. Five years she'd been waiting to find out what secrets this object held… why it captivated her so. Her mother had been disturbed by Luna's connection to it but had reluctantly agreed to let Luna help only if she hadn't figured it out herself by the time the blonde had taken her OWLs. Then her mother had died, the sarcophagus had been taken from their house, and their little agreement became meaningless.

Since then, life had ranged from uncomfortable to downright hellish for Luna. Nobody understood what it was like to be her. The sarcophagus had sung to her… filled her with little bits of tempting information as payment for the task Luna would someday perform. Knowledge of amazing creatures, nudged sideways out of phase with this reality by their creators… places that humans could barely comprehend and would never be able to see for themselves. Her father tried to humor her, but she could tell that even he didn't know what to make of her sometimes. Her peers didn't even deign to make that effort. She snorted; Loony Lovegood indeed. If they only knew.

But that was all over now. The sarcophagus and its secrets were hers again. All hers. That was all that mattered to Luna. Her previous problems were insignificant compared to that fact. What did stolen shoes and hidden books matter when held next to the prospect of unimaginable power and knowledge?

Luna reached the head of the sarcophagus and leaned over it, staring down at the massive garnet set at the top of the pentagon of gems. It was almost the size of her fist; she couldn't even begin to guess what it might fetch on the open market, but undoubtedly it would be enough to allow her to live comfortably for many, many years. And yet where it was sitting at the moment… it was worth so much more.

Her hand moved to hover over the garnet and Luna paused. The sarcophagus and its inhabitant had waited for untold millennia for someone to come along and open it. Surely it wouldn't begrudge her a few more years of life, would it? But on the other hand, it had been lost to her once before. Who knew where it might end up after tonight's events, or if she'd ever be able to visit this room again legitimately even if it did remain here. After a further moment of hesitation, Luna lowered her hand and pushed down on the gem.

The spiral slowly unfurled to reveal utter blackness, the pale blue light of the room not penetrating enough to show either the bottom or sides inside the sarcophagus. Then there was harsh gust of wind and Luna sucked in a breath. The air was dirty… more than merely musty, like trying to breathe in a sandstorm. It burned in her lungs and her eyes watered, but Luna wasn't deterred. This was what she was meant to do. Her hand came up off the garnet and she leaned closer, planting one hand on each of the sapphires that sat on either side of the spiral.

A heat blossomed in her, racing through her veins like fire. Luna took a deep breath and then another as it became easier. Each beat of her heart made her lungs feel cooler while the rest of her body grew warmer. It was almost like the flush of arousal she sometimes felt when she looked at Harry, but so much more intense.

Without warning came a flash of pain that made Luna hiss softly, followed by an even stronger wave of pleasure that made the blonde's knees wobbly. Then came more pain followed closely by another blast of pleasure, the two sensations warring back and forth inside her body and driving her toward insanity on a torturously rapturous ride. Finally, there was one sharp spike of pain behind her eyes and then she knew no more.

* * *

It took a moment for Illyria to finish integrating the sparks that remained of her shell's mind, giving her the knowledge required to operate her new body's appendages and the capacity to properly interpret the influx of information from her now limited senses. The floor. She was lying on the floor. Why was she lying on the floor?

Her movements were jerky in the unfamiliar body, so unlike her real form, but she managed to force the shell to its feet after some trial and error. Illyria cocked her head to the side as she stared at the sarcophagus… her sarcophagus… in wonder. The garnet was cracked, depleted in the bonding between her and the shell. But the two sapphires were damaged as well, indicating the shell had desired to become her host and voluntarily taken Illyria into her body. Fascinating.

Quick tears removed the primitive and unflattering coverings of her shell, and then she moved to hold a hand over one of the two remaining gems of her sarcophagus. Her hand came down on the piece of milky quartz and it flooded her with power. Illyria watched in satisfaction as her nude human form was covered with an acceptable enough adaptation of what she'd worn in her last form: the tanned and stitched hides of her fallen foes. Reds and blacks and blues and golds, clinging tightly to her human body in a way that one spark informed her that the males of her shell's species would find aesthetically pleasing.

As for the sparks… Illyria turned her attention inward, frowning at a rather large ball of energy floating in the core of her shell. Somehow, it had withstood the fires of her resurrection and remained even when everything that made a human such had been destroyed. Then the frown on her lips became a slight smile as she realized what it was. Magic. The humans had learned to become more like her kind, and her host had a magical core within her. While they were still decidedly unimpressive compared to even the weakest of the demons of her army, perhaps the intervening years had allowed modern humans to become less pathetic than the ones Illyria had known, cowering in caves with crude weapons and requiring the protection of higher beings.

Her hand moved on to the last gem and Illyria eagerly absorbed the power stored in the second piece of milky quartz. Carefully directing the energy as it flooded her system, she wrapped thick strands of her own magic around her shell's magical core and then sent tendrils drilling into the ball of energy to bind it to her will.

When the last of the gems was finally depleted, Illyria thrust one hand out and a wooden rod jumped up off of the floor and into her grasp. Based on the shell's memories… the wooden rod was called a wand. She examined it curiously for a moment. It wasn't capable of channeling her power correctly; it was tuned to compliment her shell's power rather than their new combined magical strength. But the fact that humans not only had magic but also knew how to create proper focusing tools intrigued her. But while it wouldn't work properly for her… would it work well enough to be worth bringing with her? Or should she destroy it to keep someone from using it against her and leave the pieces behind? Illyria flicked the wand casually and sent the tiniest fragment of her power flowing through it. A bright ball of light emerged from the tip, driving shadows and the blue cast from the room with its fierce white radiance.

"This will do."

* * *

Huffing, Daphne Greengrass crossed her arms over her chest before turning to glare at where her housemates were clustered around her half-sister in the middle of the Slytherin common room. Ever since they'd come skulking back in after their mysterious errand for Umbridge, the members of the Inquisitorial Squad had been… different. Subdued, and yet almost desperately hungry for news from the outside world. In their desperation, they'd turned to someone that they barely tolerated the presence of under normal circumstances, but… "Oh, for Merlin's sake. She's not a wizarding wireless, people, she's a seer. Sitting there staring at her isn't going to make her do something interesting."

"Not necessarily." Leaning back against the couch, Tracey Davis shot Daphne a grin before reaching up to toy with the top button of her white uniform blouse. "I can do plenty of interesting things while people sit here watching. Might not be the interesting thing they want, but they're still interesting…"

Daphne shuddered faintly at the thought of witnessing anything even remotely sexual involving her half-sister before shaking her head. "Pass. Besides, you're a 'disgusting little half-blood'. It'd be a waste of a show; none of the boys here want to touch you." Tracey narrowed her eyes at that, making Daphne shrug. "What? It's true."

The intense stare continued for a few more seconds and then the corner of Tracey's mouth quirked up. "Remind me again why I'm a half-blood? Oh, that's right. Because William Greengrass, head of the Ancient and Noble House of Greengrass, couldn't keep from cheating on his pureblood wife with my 'filthy muggle mother'." Letting one hand drift down, she trailed the tip of her index finger along the upper slope of her breast. "Evidently, when it comes down to it, blood comes in a distant second to a ruddy big pair of kno-" Tracey abruptly went silently, her mouth working for another second or two as her eyes rolled back in her head, and then her body began to jerk and shake wildly.

"Bloody hell, move! Clear the fucking couch!" As the rest of her housemates scrambled out of the way, Daphne caught Lilith O'Mochain's eye and jerked her head in Tracey's direction. Not that she didn't trust Pansy or Millicent to help her with her sister but… wait, no, that was exactly why she was leaning on Lilith. The brunette nodded and waited for Daphne to take hold of Tracey's shoulders and begin tipping her to the right before bending down and grabbing the girl's feet, helping Daphne guide her half-sister down onto her side on the couch. The two took up positions on the edges of the couch, keeping Tracey from rolling onto either her stomach or the floor… which meant Daphne was in just the right spot to notice as unnatural blue pigment began to creep out of Tracey's hairline, spreading under her skin. That was new… and worrisome.

Before she could put much thought into it, Tracey made a familiar - and utterly unwanted - wet, wheezing noise. Daphne barely had time to twist her hips, shifting her long legs out of the line of fire, and then her half-sister unleashed a torrent of blue-black vomit that splashed across the stone floor. The brunette sucked in a deep breath before vomiting again, the process repeating three more times before she finally dry heaved and then went limp against the back of the couch.

Silence reigned for almost a minute and then some scoffed. "Well. That was vile."

"You're the one who wanted her to have a vision, Malfoy. Welcome to the aftermath." Daphne shot a look over at the blond before pointing her wand down at the disgusting mess that covered a not inconsiderable portion of the floor nearby. "Your vision, your vomit. Clean it up."

"And if I don't?"

"I'll hit you with an Impediment Jinx and then shove your face into it." Daphne held Draco's gaze until he threw his hands up in surrender and went to deal with the problem, and then turned back to Tracey as her half-sister let out a little whimper and began to stir. Reaching down, Daphne brushed the brunette's hair back away from her face, at which point she noticed the blueness was gone. Curiouser and curiouser. Leaning in, she waited for Tracey to open her eyes before lowering her voice. "Do you want me to take the memory from you and tell them what you saw?"

Tracey shook her head, and then groaned as her body rebelled at the sudden and rapid movement. "No. I… seeing it was bad enough. I wouldn't wish the memory on Parkinson, much less you."

Oh thank Merlin. Daphne hadn't exactly been wild about the idea of taking on a memory that had made Tracey react like that, but had figured she should offer for politeness's sake. "The Dark Lord?"

"Worse. Something darker. Eviler. I think… I think it was a demon. Whatever it was, it's horrible in a way that makes You-Know-Who look like a candle next to a bonfire. And… I 'm not sure, but I think Loony Lovegood's involved with it all somehow…"

…what?

* * *

"She killed Sirius! She killed him… I'll kill her!"

And then Harry was off, scrambling up the stone benches. People were shouting behind him, but he didn't care. The hem of Bellatrix's black robe whipped out of sight ahead of him and he poured on the speed as he raced after her, narrowing the gap as they re-entered the Brain Room.

Bellatrix fired a curse back over her shoulder, tipping one of the brain-filled tanks over to obstruct his path. Harry was deluged in the foul-smelling potion inside as the brains slipped and slid over his body. Their long, colored tentacles began to spin through the air and wind around him, but Harry wrenched them from his body as he continued his pursuit. Wobbling unsteadily on the wet floors, he ran on toward the open door at the far end of the room.

He passed Luna, who was standing in another doorway looking oddly blue-tinged but otherwise unharmed. He passed Ginny, whose mouth moved but the words didn't register with Harry. He passed Ron, who giggled feebly and waved at him. He passed Hermione, who was still unconscious and lying in a heap on the floor. His friends had put their trust in him and this was what they got in return: pain and suffering. It reminded him exactly why he had tried to do this alone, and why he'd do things on his own in the future.

Racing through the doorway, Harry entered the circular black hall and saw Bellatrix disappearing through another door on the other side of the room. Beyond her was the corridor leading back to the lifts. He tried to follow but she slammed the door behind her and the walls began to rotate again. Once more, he found himself surrounded by streaks of blue light from the whirling candelabra. "Where's the exit? Where's the way out?"

In response, the door directly behind him flew open and Harry spun around. The corridor toward the lifts stretched ahead of him, torch-lit and empty. He ran.

Harry could hear a lift clattering ahead of him as he sprinted up the passageway, swung around the corner, and slammed his fist onto the button to call a second lift. He was dimly aware of soft footsteps behind him, but it didn't matter to him at the moment. Only Bellatrix mattered. Everything else was secondary. After what felt like an eternity, the lift arrived and Harry threw himself inside. Hammering the button marked Atrium, he waited impatiently for the doors to slide shut and then he was rising.

Before the grills were fully open, Harry forced himself out of the lift and into the Atrium. Looking around wildly, he soon spotted his quarry: Bellatrix was almost to the far end of the hall, and the lift that would lead up to the muggle telephone box and freedom. Glancing back over her shoulder, she spotted him sprinting toward her and chose to stop so she could fire a spell back at him. He dove into the cover provided by the Fountain of Magical Brethren as the bright bolt of light zoomed past him. When it impacted against the gold gates of the lift he'd taken up to the atrium, they rang like bells and Harry found himself wondering what the same spell might have done to him had it connected.

He could hear no more footsteps; their chase was over now and the battle just beginning. Harry crouched behind the statues, listening and thinking. With his line of sight disrupted, he found himself relying more on his ears and pondering the different sounds in the Atrium: his own soft and even breaths, Bellatrix's pants as she tried to catch her breath after her mad dash, and the jangling and thumping as the lift descended back into the bowels of the Ministry. He was in better shape than her despite making the same run; he probably had quidditch to thank for that. The lifts… it was just the two of them for now, but that would change. It left him in a difficult position: he wasn't particularly wild about engaging a witch of her caliber on his own but he couldn't assume that the next person up the lift would be on his side. And if there was one thing worse than a one-on-one fight with Bellatrix, it was a two-on-one fight with Bellatrix and another Death Eater as they hammered at him from opposite directions.

"Come out, come out, little Harry!" Bellatrix had adopted the same mocking, baby-like voice he'd heard her use earlier. It echoed eerily in the Atrium and Harry shivered. "What did you come after me for, then? I thought you were here to avenge my dear cousin?"

The rage was growing, fed by Bellatrix's casual reference to the murder of the one remaining member of Harry's family who had given a damn about him. "I am!"

"Aww. Did you love him, little baby Potter?"

Hatred rose up inside Harry to a degree that he had never known before. Yes, he had loved Sirius. Even in just the two years he'd known the man, Sirius had been more of a family to Harry than the Dursleys had in the last fifteen. He was supposed to live with Sirius permanently someday. Like a real family would. And now all that was ruined, ruined by a horrible woman who had the gall to taunt him about it. Flinging himself out from behind the fountain, he found Bellatrix standing there only feet away, a mocking little smirk on her face. Raising his wand, he thrust it out at her. "_Crucio_!"

Bellatrix let out a scream as the spell knocked her off her feet, but she didn't writhe and shriek with pain as Neville had when she'd cast it on him. Within moments, she was back on her feet, breathless once more and no longer laughing at him. She loosed another spell and Harry was forced to dodge back behind the golden fountain for protection as the spell hit the head of the handsome wizard. The curse tore the head off the statue, sending it twenty feet through the air before slamming to the floor, gouging long scratches in the wood before coming to a stop. Yet again, Harry found himself wondering what she'd cast and what it would have done to him had it hit… but at the same time, very glad that it hadn't.

"Never used an Unforgivable Curse before, have you, boy?" The baby voice was gone now and he could hear Bellatrix's feet tapping back and forth as she paced, waiting for him to make a move. "You need to mean them, Potter! You need to really want to cause pain. To enjoy it. Righteous anger won't hurt me for long, you saw that. Maybe you'd like me to show you how it's done? I'll give you a lesson, shall I?"

Harry growled softly and fingered his wand. As if he knew the proper way to use an Unforgivable at his age and level of education. It wasn't exactly a Ministry-approved area of study at Hogwarts. His first attempt had gone well enough, at least in his opinion, and now that he knew what to do…

Focusing on his destroyed dreams… the prospect of another two summers with the Dursleys… the family holidays he'd never get to share with Sirius… Harry reached deep down inside himself and did something he thought he'd never dare try: he found the area where he shunted the emotions that came down the link from Voldemort when his scar burned, and he embraced them. A cruel smirk twisted his features and he stepped out from behind the fountain again. "_Crucio_!"

This time, the spell worked for him. Bellatrix collapsed, screaming and twitching on the floor of the Atrium. Remembering the demonstration given by Barty Crouch Junior the previous year, Harry held his wand on her as he closed the distance between them. She babbled pleas for mercy but he just stared down at her in silence. Even as he crossed this line, even as he used their own weapons against them, he wasn't like them. There would be no taunting, no mockery. This was vengeance, not entertainment for him.

"This is grief. I'm watching human grief. It's like offal in my mouth, yet even as bearing witness to your emotions disgusts me, the results amuse me so. Continue."

The spell ended as Harry's concentration was broken, and he whirled to see who had born witness to what he'd just done. He found himself face-to-face with someone who was very familiar, and yet at the same time, very alien to him. "Luna?"

"Luna Lovegood was this shell. I am Illyria."


	2. Return of the King

Joe's Note: A hell of a big thank you to the fifty-seven people over two sites who reviewed this story. And so now we move on to the second of four chapters dealing with the worst night of young Harry's life.

* * *

"Luna Lovegood was this shell. I am Illyria."

What the bloody hell? Harry looked back and forth between the blue-tinged Luna and the twitching form of Bellatrix before deciding the thing masquerading as his friend was the bigger threat and training his wand on 'Luna'. "I don't understand. What do you mean by shell? Who the bloody hell is Illyria? Whoever you are, this isn't funny. My friends are hurt, Sirius Black is dead…"

"You think she cares, Potter?" Bellatrix let out a wheezy little laugh from where she lay on the floor, her dark eyes glittering with malicious glee as she stared up at him. "So ignorant of our world… just like your mother and all the other mudbloods. Don't you understand what you're staring at there? That… that's an Old One. The God-King, even."

Harry frowned and turned his attention back to the being who had called herself Illyria. Despite Bellatrix's assertions otherwise, the phrase 'Old One' did seem vaguely familiar… although given she knew exactly what they were and he didn't, perhaps there was also a bit of truth to her words, he was forced to admit. He had a sinking suspicion that it was something from one of Hermione's many lectures about subjects that didn't interest him in the slightest; something he'd nodded along to as he feigned interest without actually listening to the words coming out of her rapidly moving mouth. Old Ones… Old Ones…

Wait! Now he remembered. They'd come up during Hermione's 'research everything more than human' campaign earlier this year, when she'd been dead set on finding out everything about all the non-human sentient species that Voldemort might recruit. They were… some sort of prehistoric demonic entities, if Harry recalled correctly. But then how did that… had something possessed Luna while in the Department of Mysteries?

She certainly looked possessed. Luna's slightly oversized and protuberant eyes, formerly grey, were now a pale and icy shade of blue unlike any Harry had previously seen on a person. As inhuman as they were, though, they weren't nearly as unsettling as the odd, veiny patches of blue skin that ran along her hairline and down the sides of her neck. And… actually, compared to her eyes and skin, the streaks of blue in Luna's waist-length dirty blond hair seemed positively normal. There was no sign of the casual muggle clothing Luna had been wearing when they left Hogwarts earlier that evening; in its place was a multicolored catsuit that looked to be made several different kinds and qualities of leather over a sleek black bottom layer.

Stepping back, guilt hit Harry like a punch in the gut. His friends were hurt, Sirius was dead, and now Luna was possessed by a demon… all because of his mistake. Because he'd decided he knew better than the adults, and gone and fallen into a trap trying to rescue someone who wasn't even in danger. "If you can hear me… I'm sorry, Luna. I'm so sorry. We'll find a way to fix this. Maybe the headmaster can…"

"Do not bleat at me about things you do not understand, human. You seek absolution for something you had no hand in." Illyria stalked toward Bellatrix, her movements slightly jerky and inhuman, as if she wasn't quite used to operating a humanoid body. Then again, if she truly was some sort of prehistoric demon, Harry realized, she probably wasn't. "Will you continue your torture of this woman? I found her screams to be quite delicious. Although I find myself curious, why do you do so? I know from my shell that humans find such a thing unacceptable."

Keeping one eye on Illyria, Harry circled around to stand on the other side of Bellatrix, putting the supine woman between the two of them. "She murdered my godfather. She took away the only family I had that mattered to me."

"That is the grief I taste, then."

"Yes."

Illyria was silent for a moment, pondering that. "Your godfather… meant something to you. You cared for him. You… meant something to my shell. She cared for you. I find myself wishing to help you take vengeance. May I join you?"

Denial was on the tip of his tongue but then Harry forced himself to stop and think about the offer. He'd already used one Unforgivable that day - well, the same one twice, but who was counting? - and while it was unlikely that Bellatrix would try to press charges against him for using the Cruciatus on her… if he killed her himself? Questions would inevitably be asked. His wand would be examined. It would create all kinds of problems for him, none of which he wanted to deal with, especially with the way the Ministry had treated him and those close to him as of late.

Now, though? He might have another option. "Lun…alyria. You want to help me because Luna liked me?" Illyria nodded. "Even if that means killing someone?" Another nod, this one a bit more eager. "If… if I asked you to kill this woman for me, what would you require of me in return?" After all, nothing ever came for free and Harry wasn't naïve enough to assume this… being… would be any different.

A brief flicker of hesitation crossed Illyria's face. "The shell was not anticipating encountering me in this place, and so she had not yet secured for me a Qwa'ha Xahn." Harry's lack of comprehension must have shown on his face, because Illyria let out a soft sigh and waved her hand before explaining. "A high priest… a servant… a guide… all of these and yet none of them. Trying to put it into terms you can understand is like attempting to explain what the color red sounds like. At this moment, though, the term 'guide' would best define my needs. I require someone who can help introduce me to this strange new world. Explain its intricacies to me." She eyed Harry consideringly. "The shell was planning to ask you to assume this role when the time came, and so I will extend that offer to you now. I will take this woman's life and avenge your godfather's death for you if you become my Qwa'ha Xahn."

Luna had known this was coming? Or, more accurately, had been making plans concerning her own eventual possession? Harry didn't really know what to make of that, although it did ease his guilty conscience a tiny bit. It was something he could ponder - and perhaps discuss with her - another time, though; he had more pressing concerns at the moment. Such as Illyria's offer. On one hand, it was probably the closest he could get to making a deal with the devil… but on the other hand, Luna had been intending to extend the same offer to him and she was his friend. She wouldn't have deliberately screwed him over… right? Sighing in resignation, Harry nodded his agreement. At this point, all he could do was hope this wouldn't come back to bite him on the arse. Or that if it did, like everything in his life tended to, it wouldn't bite too hard. "Do I need to do anything to become your, err, Qwa'ha Xahn?"

"Put these on your dominant hand." Illyria held out her hand and presented Harry with a quintet of silver rings, each topped with a jagged hunk of some gem. "One ring per finger: white, blue, red, blue, white. They will eventually be absorbed into your flesh, and this method is far easier than cutting your flesh open and inserting mystical sacraments near your heart in accordance with the ancient ways."

Gulping, Harry snatched the rings up and slid them onto the fingers of his right hand. Yeah, the weird rings were a bit effeminate-looking, but it sure as hell beat having his chest cut open so that Illyria could stuff things into it. As the final ring slid onto his pinky, he felt a rush of power thrum through his body. "Wow…"

Illyria cocked her head to the side, eyes glazing over slightly. In his own mind, Harry could feel slight digging fingers, almost like the legilimency that Snape had used to violate his mind but far gentler and dare he say it, more natural? Snape and Voldemort, he'd wanted out of his head as fast as humanly possible. Illyria, on the other hand, felt almost as if she belonged there. It was as if he was wracking his own mind for something he couldn't quite recall. "You have a war to fight. Many foes to kill." Her lips quirked up in a smile. "Oh, my shell has chosen well indeed. This shall be a most interesting experience for me." Looking down, her smile grew wider as she stared at Bellatrix. "And now, I shall fulfill our agreement, for I desire to do violence."

Backing away, Harry watched as Illyria went down on one knee beside Bellatrix. Instead of the spell he was expecting her to use, she simply took her prey's head between both hands and twisted sharply. There was a sharp crack and then Bellatrix went still.

Just like that, the woman who had killed Sirius… had tortured Neville's parents insane… was dead. Gone forever.

Lost in his thoughts, Harry almost missed when Illyria drew Luna's wand from… he wasn't quite sure, to be honest, nor was he entirely sure he wanted to know given how tight her outfit was. Illyria slashed it across Bellatrix's throat and a white disc of energy emerged from the tip of her wand, whining softly like a muggle saw before cleaving through the dead woman's neck. Fisting her hand in Bellatrix's hair, Illyria held up the separated head and examined it for a moment. With a flick of her wand, she stripped the hair and flesh away, the bare skull dropping toward the floor until Illyria's gloved hand shot out and plucked it out of the air. Holding it up, she presented it to Harry. "For you. A trophy by which to remember our victory over this foe."

Harry took the skull from Illyria, staring at it as he turned it over and over in his hands. But while he knew logically that he should feel horrified by his new 'trophy'… by the fact that a woman was dead because he'd asked for it to be so… he couldn't manage to feel anything but satisfaction. She'd never again ruin a family the way she'd ruined his and Neville's. "Thanks. The world is a better place without her."

"A very slippery slope, young Potter." Harry whirled around to find Voldemort standing directly behind him, wand at the ready. Holy shit! Why hadn't his scar warned him tha- "Today, you are justifying the deaths of your enemies. Tomorrow, it might be the accidental death of an innocent. Soon, you'll come to revel in death and destruction as I have. Oh, if only Dumbledore could see his golden boy now. But no matter. You have taken one of my favorite servants from me and smashed my prophecy. Just like your parents, you defy me and thwart my plans. And for that, you shall join them tonight. _Avada Kedavra_!"

As the blast of green magic roared toward him, Harry surrendered himself to the inevitable and let his mind drift, only to come to a rather depressing realization: he was going to die a virgin. Sirius was going to be so ashamed of him. Presumably his father, too, based on what Sirius had told him. Then the world warped around him, and he found himself standing on the opposite side of the Atrium as the Killing Curse sailed through where he'd just been standing. Removing her hand from his arm, Illyria stalked toward Voldemort. "You will cease in your attempts to harm my Qwa'ha Xahn or suffer the consequences."

Voldemort let out a high-pitched cackle, evidently recognizing the term. "Consorting with demons now, Potter? Interesting, but in the end it doesn't matter. I'll kill her, then you. _Avada Kedavra_!"

The second Killing Curse slammed into Illyria and she grunted as she dug her feet into the floor, the green curse pushing her back a few feet before she shrugged it off and continued her approach. "An interesting yet ultimately futile attempt to harm me. You cannot destroy a soul that does not exist."

"Impossible. _Avada Kedavra_! _Avada Kedavra_!" The two follow-up Killing Curses didn't do any more damage than the first and Voldemort scowled before switching tactics. "_Crucio_!" He held his wand steady for several seconds before snarling and taking a step back as Illyria proved to be equally immune to another Unforgivable. After a moment's thought, he opted not to try the third, but instead pointed his wand at Bellatrix's fallen form and summoned her to him.

Harry frowned as he watched the headless corpse slid across the floor, not realizing Voldemort's plan until he was already bending down to press the tip of his wand against the Dark Mark that adorned Bellatrix's left arm. "Look out! He's summoning…" The call was quickly answered as three Death Eaters popped into existence behind Voldemort, all of them directly connected to Bellatrix in some way. Rodolphus Lestrange, her husband. Rabastan Lestrange, her brother-in-law. And Lucius Malfoy, her brother-in-law by way of her sister Narcissa. If there was a worse combination of people who could have shown up at this particular moment in time, Harry couldn't think of it. "…backup."

Slowly rising, Voldemort thrust his wand out in Illyria's direction. "The Old One is responsible for Bellatrix's death, but seems to be immune to the Unforgivables. We will need to be… creative… in making her suffer."

"You will need to be creative if you wish to survive this encounter." Illyria stretched her arm out in front of her and then blurred forward, delivering a brutal palm strike that sent Rabastan flying clear across the Atrium, his body eventually striking the far wall and then dropping to the floor. He didn't move. Pivoting, Illyria ducked under an incoming spell in a sickly shade of yellow before curling her fingers around Lucius's ankle and yanking him off his feet. Rather than throw him across the room, as Harry was expecting, she twisted and swung his body into Rodolphus's. As the two men went down in a pile of tangled limbs, Illyria skipped forward two steps in a manner that was pure Luna… before bringing her foot down hard on Rodolphus's skull, crushing it. Lucius abruptly went very still, staring at the boot near his head with wide eyes, and Illyria sneered. "I would prefer to humiliate you thoroughly before killing you, Lucius Malfoy. Do not force my hand tonight."

"_Depulso_." Voldemort's calmly spoken spell sent a bright pulse of white light slamming into Illyria's chest, hurling her backward away from Lucius. She hit the ground a few yards away, rolling twice before hopping back to her feet and pointing her wand at the snakelike man. The two stared at each other for a moment, each assessing a largely unknown foe, and then Voldemort struck. Turning his back on Illyria, Voldemort sent a barrage of spells racing toward Harry. The air rippled and suddenly his human shield was back, Illyria interposing herself between her Qwa'ha Xahn and Voldemort. Their eyes met as she stood there calmly, letting each of the spells intended for him slam into her back and dissipate harmlessly… only to be blown forward into Harry as Voldemort finished with another Banishing Charm. The reflexes that made him the school's best seeker served Harry well as he wrapped his arms around Illyria's slender form, pulling her close so they hit the ground and rolled instead of going down in a messy pile the way Rodolphus and Lucius had. Voldemort let out another of his strange cackles at that. "Nothing that affects the soul or internal organs… but she's vulnerable to brute force. Good to know. What about elemental magic?"

Before Voldemort could engage in another experiment regarding Illyria's reactions to magic, a new person entered the fray. "It was foolish of you to come here tonight, Tom." Harry turned his head and let out a sigh of relief at the sight of Dumbledore stepping out of one of the lifts. "The aurors are on their way, and you have shown your hand. The Ministry was content to deny your return up until this point; now, they will have no choice but to recognize the threat you pose."

Voldemort shrugged at that, waving his wand back and forth to draw Dumbledore's attention to the three Death Eater corpses in the Atrium. Of Malfoy, there was no sign. "But they'll also have to recognize the company that your young protégé keeps and what he's done here tonight. That should keep them - and you - busy for now. Until we meet again, Dumbledore." Harry frowned at that; they weren't going to battle? Considering how badly Voldemort wanted both him and Dumbledore dead, that seemed a bit… strange. Then Voldemort thrust his wand out, releasing a torrent of flame that roared as it continued to grow even after the spell ended despite the absence of fuel, forming into a giant flaming basilisk that was easily as large as the one Harry had slain in the Chamber of Secrets. As soon as the tail touched the ground, Voldemort gave a mocking little bow and disappeared with a pop inaudible over the roaring flame.

Scrambling to his feet and then helping Illyria to hers, Harry watched the flaming basilisk warily as it looked from him to Dumbledore and back several times. Eventually, it came to a decision and lunged toward him and Illyria, perhaps deciding that they would be easier prey. Or maybe it was imbued with enough of Voldemort to target his current obsession over his long-standing one? Harry had no way of being sure exactly what the apparently sentient fire was thinking and honestly didn't care; at this point, his primary concern was survival. He raised his wand as he racked his brain, trying to decide how best to handle the situation. "_Aguame_-"

Stepping in front of Harry, Illyria raised her wand and whispered something too quiet for Harry to hear. A torrent of wind and snow spewed from her wand, shooting up to intercept the flame. It formed into the shape of some bizarre, monstrous creature, wrapping long tentacles around the body of the basilisk and hugging it close to its icy body. The basilisk screeched and fought but ultimately proved no match for Illyria's construct, eventually disappearing in a puff of oily smoke that smelled harshly of sulfur. The snowy monster gave one last imperious look around the Atrium before Illyria flicked her wand, the construct falling apart and showering them all with snow as it collapsed to coat the floor with an inch or two of white powder.

And then it was just the three of them, at least for the moment. Harry eyed Dumbledore uncertainly, not particularly interested in answering the questions he assumed would be forthcoming about his behavior that evening and his new companion. But the headmaster just stood there silently, staring at Illyria with a contemplative look on his face. Illyria, on the other hand, seemed immune to it all as she stared off into space, presumably pondering God-Kingly things.

The standoff was broken as the fireplaces all around the Atrium flared, heralding the arrival of Minister Fudge, Percy Weasley, and dozens of others. "What's all this then?" Fudge stumbled forward, looking completely out of place with a robe thrown over his rumpled pajamas. "I was told that dark magic was detected here in the Ministry and that all available aurors were being called in."

Kingsley Shacklebolt stepped out from behind Dumbledore, adjusting his robes. Harry hadn't even seen the auror arrive… what did that say about his observational skills? "Dumbledore was right. You-Know-Who has returned. I was notified that dark magic was detected and apparated in. I saw him myself."

"Minister!" An auror that Harry recognized from the attack on Hagrid and McGonagall… Dawlish, his memory supplied… was kneeling beside Bellatrix's body. "We have fatalities!" He looked from her to where Rodolphus lay nearby and back, and then his eyes landed on her exposed left arm. Gasping loudly, he held it up so the inside of the forearm was easily visible. "She has the Dark Mark. There aren't too many female Death Eaters, either. I think… I think this might be Bellatrix Lestrange!"

The volume of conversation in the Atrium jumped at that revelation and Harry cringed, grabbing Illyria's wrist and trying to fade back into the crowd. Maybe he could get down to the Department of Mysteries and find his friends, then get out of here before anyone noticed him…

_'I think not.'_ Illyria narrowed her eyes as she glanced back over her shoulder at him. For some reason, it didn't even bother Harry that she could speak into his mind. After all, she'd already seen his memories and Voldemort lived in his head too. What was one more passenger? _'I will allow you to share - or even take - credit for this battle because of your station, but no other. This was my victory. If you are unwilling or able to properly acknowledge it, then I will be forced to interact with your leader directly to do so.'_

In other words, either Harry needed to step in and take credit for the Lestranges… or she would. Given that Harry could already tell that Illyria wasn't the type to suffer fools gladly and Minister Fudge's picture could be found in the dictionary next to the word? The word 'badly' didn't even begin to describe how that interaction might unfold. Drawing himself up to his full height, Harry took a deep breath. These people had practically canonized him back when he was still soiling his nappies. He'd never been comfortable with it and accordingly never taken advantage of it, but perhaps it was time to change that. Pushing his way to the front of the crowd, he cleared his throat and waited for Fudge to look his way before forcing himself to channel a bit of Lucius Malfoy, as distasteful as he found the idea. "Good evening, Minister. Perhaps I could shed some light on things for you?"

Eyes widening, Fudge took a step toward Harry. "Potter! I should have known that you would be involved in this. I guess Dolores was right about you all along. Aurors, take-"

Think like Lucius, not Draco, Harry reminded himself. Helpful and polite, but firm at the same time. That had gotten the blond Death Eater far with the minister, and would hopefully serve him just as well. "Would you like answers or not, Minister?" Harry raised one eyebrow challenging and Fudge trailed off with a scowl before nodding. Stepping past Fudge, Harry gestured down the body next to Dawlish. "Now… yes, that is indeed Bellatrix Lestrange. And over here we have Rodolphus Lestrange…" He pointed at the corpse with the crushed skull and then over at Illyria's third victim, who had gone unnoticed thus far. "…and Rabastan Lestrange. But I assure you that I have a perfectly good explanation for all of this." Drawing his wand, he flicked it back and forth, waiting for the crowd to clear a path before pointing it at the lifts. "_Accio_ wanted posters!" Three sheets of parchment were torn off the wall between the two lifts, flying across the Atrium and into his hand. "Now… according to these, Amelia Bones of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement has authorized a reward of sixty-five thousand galleons a piece to anyone who can bring in the Misters and Missus Lestrange, dead or alive." Harry made a point of emphasizing the word 'dead' as he looked back over at Fudge. "Therefore, we were doing absolutely nothing illegal when we took their lives. One might even say that we were performing our civic duty as members of the wizarding world."

Fudge's mouth worked silently for several seconds as he processed that, and then he seized on the absolute last thing Harry expected. "We? Who's this 'we'? I only see one of you. Unless…" He looked around wildly, eyes eventually coming to land on Dumbledore. "Ah ha!"

"Harry was speaking of me, you foolish man." Forcing her way forward far less gently than Harry had, Illyria sidled up beside Harry on his right. "Bellatrix Lestrange was responsible for the death of my Qwa'ha Xahn's godfather and caused him much grief. In return, I opted to take her skull as a trophy."

Dumbledore's brow furrowed and then understanding dawned, causing the color to drain from his face. Fudge, on the other hand, was nowhere near as intelligent and did not make the same connection as Dumbledore. "Lestrange did what to who's what? Who are you?" Went Illyria didn't respond immediately, he gestured impatiently. "Speak up, girl!"

Snarling, Illyria brushed past Harry as she closed the distance between herself and Fudge, wrapping one hand around his throat and lifting him clear off the ground. "You will address me with respect, muck. I am not 'girl'. I am Illyria, God-King of the Primordium, shaper of things." She leaned closer, staring into his wide eyes. "I should take your kingdom from you and make it my own. The shell and my Qwa'ha Xahn have memories that speak of your incompetence as a leader. It would be far too easy to remove you and become their king…"

Suddenly, every wand in the room snapped up to point at her, including Dumbledore's. Harry just sighed loudly. So much for letting him handle things…


End file.
